


Two worlds

by CMDAK



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel Q, Clueless Q, Demon James Bond, F/M, Hurt James Bond, M/M, Persistent James Bond, Worried Q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-09-20 06:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9478682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMDAK/pseuds/CMDAK
Summary: Despite what books say, angels and demons don't normally have it in for each other. They work together, they become friends, they form romantic bonds that can stretch to the end of eternity, and they have no problems banding together against the rogue fraction that wishes to either bring about the end of humanity so they'd be free of the bonds of guiding them or instill so much fear in them that they wouldn't have free thoughts. James is a soldier with little understanding of self-preservation from the demonic side that fights against the rogues which lands him smack down in the middle of Q's own form of Eden.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story is almost completed, just two chapters away from the end. Will add a chapter per week.

Supernatural beings of the religious kind did not live as it was heavily implied in the books supposedly written by those closest to God’s creations. Most angels and demons, while attached to the mortal they tried to corrupt/protect, did not bear a grudge against each other as humans like to believe they did. The angel did not smack the devil with his or her harp and the demon did not to pitchfork his angelic companion. In fact, almost all of them became friends and some, even romantic companions. But if you told a human that, they’d probably attack you with their holy books and then set you on fire while shouting about the love of God applying to everything except for a list that they knew by heart and created on the spot.

 

In the end, when you got at the bottom of everything and all emotions aside, humans were just a part of their jobs and there were no rules to go after each other as the Supreme Creator loved his fallen son and the other way around – it was just his job was extra horrible and he was stuck doing it to ensure that the lesser beings didn’t self-destruct.

 

But – because there was always such a word following the description of perfection – some angels and demons started to get testy about what they did and what there was expected of them. They started asking why they should even bother to categorize sins and why should they waste their eternity on trying to get people to see the error of their good ways instead of simply apply a single, painful punishment that was meant to teach their brethren better – the punishment was horrific death, of course, something that caused tensions between the human religion fractions which then lead to bloody wars.

 

It was decided that even if their actions were only rushing the inevitable end of humanity, they still had to be stopped. However, an outright and actual holly war was impossible as it would destroy all mortal life. Of course there was also the fact that the rebel factions had managed to find that one bloody pocket in space in which they hid from the eyes of the Supreme Creator, mocking the angels and demons they met in skirmishes for the fact that the All Seeing Father and was blind to their home while the Deceiver was deceived himself.

 

The mockery was perfect at first, the loyal angels and demons flying into fits of rage that lead to their untimely deaths. But then they all started to grow a brain and detached themselves from their love of their respective creators, slowly growing cold and uncaring of anything but their mission. They still did their best to save humans from the demented creatures, but they stopped beating themselves up over the lost lives of anyone else that wasn’t their brothers or sisters.

 

The best such agent was James Bond, full lust demon that was not only deadly between the sheets when the Fates dictated it, but out on the field as well. He liked to toy with his targets, teasing and taunting them with his words and his weapons, revelling in the misery and pain he caused them – it was payback for the fallen ones and it was also because he was a demon and they tended to become ecstatic and more powerful when someone suffered.

 

But like all demons James was cocky and while he cared for his fellow agents, he didn’t actually work well with others. He found them sluggish and felt like they got in his way, unable to focus on de-feathering his foes because someone from his group just _had_ to be screaming in the background or losing, which would force him to drop what he was doing in favour of saving their asses.

 

“Must we have this conversation every decade, Bond?” The general that ruled over him grumbled, pushing her bony fingers in her temples.

 

How he loved causing the woman headaches, but he hated it when she insisted on returning the favour and pulled him out of his downtime just to run her mouth at him. “I ask myself the same thing, M.”

 

The vein on her neck started doing that amusing thing, becoming even more prominent when she saw the way he was smirking. “We could avoid seeing each other for at least a thousand years if only you would finally learn what the word ‘team’ meant,” she said exasperatedly.

 

“A group of people or creatures who come together to achieve a common goal,” he said cheekily and wiggled his eyebrows, leaning back in the chair just in time to avoid getting smacked by the angry woman. “Really, M, why don’t you do both of us a favour and let me work on my own? You know I am good and what I do and you know these precious teams just get in my way.”

 

“Bond, have you been spending too much time in the human world, _reading_ their insipid little books that claim our kind hates—”

 

“It’s not about the fact that I have to work with angels,” James interrupted her, sighing. “Our guys get in my way the most and it’s their screams of pain that get on my nerves,” he mentally patted himself for the excellent way he worded that, because he’d rather skin himself alive than admit he cared, “so I would really appreciate it if you’d do the so-called unthinkable and let me work alone so I can actually do my job?”

 

“Much to my horror, you work just fine with Alec, so you can play nice with the other children,” she growled and the ground shook, James’ hand shooting out and saving this horrible little statuette she usually had on her table. “If you throw it out the window, you’ll go right out after it.”

 

She threw him out of her office – literally threw him out; like picked him up by the scruff of his neck and tossed him out the window – making it more than clear that she wasn’t going to heed his word as she was the most stubborn demon he had ever met. She somehow managed to be a formidable adversary to _the_ Adversary himself and that was by no means an easy feat as the Creator couldn’t get him to listen to reason.

 

But M was M and James was stuck trying his best to keep himself and everyone around him alive and not personally bash their heads against the nearest wall whenever they did something stupid that endangered the mission – though, he kind of have to give the angelic agents credit because they always had interesting little gadgets that made the saving of their feathery asses a lot easier.

 

Not that James never needed saving, but that was a rare occurrence. But when it happened, he was always a step away from dying, the demon actually being considered Azrael’s best friend due to how much time he spent in his company.

Another side effect of his man brushes with the Angel of Death besides the deep scars he proudly wore on his chest were the many angels and demons that sought him to hear stories of the one that couldn’t be seen in normal circumstances, either trying to bribe him with the alcoholic drinks discovered by humans or nagging him

 

“For the record, I am more willing to talk when presented with any version of ale,” he mumbled as he pried whoever had clung to his side, brushing dangerously close to his weapons. “Still, I will humour you, but be careful as I will only answer one question about him.”

 

“How’s Azrael like?”

 

“Lonely,” he answered honestly, eyes softening for just a moment. In his opinion, the one creation that ended up suffering the most was not the fallen angel of light, but the one task to exist without being seen until he had to do his job.

 

And that was such a pity because he was a gentle looking angel, his smile chasing away the dark tendrils that gathered at the edge of his vision, his touch warm and soft, the complete opposite of what one expected. Yes, dying was cold and could be terrifyingly lonely if you happened to get knocked away from the battlefield so Azrael appearing out of nowhere just to hold your hand and keep you company until you were either ripped from his surprisingly nice embrace or until the last breath left your body was more than welcomed.

 

Seeing the Angel of Death was also a pretty good indication of just how hurt you were, especially when you were the victim of such a fast surprise attack that you weren’t even realising that you were bleeding or hurting.

 

“I was careful this time,” he mused, realizing that all he was capable of doing right then was make incoherent, high pitched noises. And then he started to feel the pain and realize just how hard it was to breathe without coughing his lungs out, the ground a lot harder than he remembered it to be.

 

“ _Not careful enough,_ ” the angel muttered and sat by his side, folding his pitch black wings behind him and resting his hand on James’ head. _“Do you want me to lie to you?”_

 

James let out a mix between a groan and a scream, his body shivering violently. “I really don’t like you asking me that, but I like that you’re so warm _._ ” He tried to smile at his friend, the angel sighing before forcing himself to return the gesture.

 

“ _I’ll miss you, honestly_.” James had never noticed that besides the fact that Death personified and winged had a soft voice, it was also melodic. No, now it dawned on James that the angel had never actually spoken to him, but sang him a song that was slowly lulling him to the sleep from which one never woke up.

 

A thought suddenly crossed his mind – well, more than one did that right now, but his one was the only one he deemed good enough to focus towards his companion. “I never asked you where we go after we die, did I? _”_

 

As humans were actually two components forming one being, their souls roamed the place of eternal happiness or that of never-ending punishment after the material pieces gave out, but what about creatures such as him? What happened to angels and demons that were just a form of a soul that could be both unseen and seen when they wished it and without a physical form until they wanted one? Where did they go?

 

Azrael thought for a moment, looking to the side, and then honestly smiled. “ ** _It’s not the time for you to find out,_** ” he whispered – actually opened his mouth and forced the words to come out – and then he was gone, replaced by a young man with a mop of unruly brown hair, soft, warm hands that were gently touching the edges of his wounds, and green eyes narrowed in concentration – or annoyance, he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Keep still and keep quiet,” the man instructed him, applying a bit of pressure on his shoulders. “You already ruined my vegetable garden by falling on it, so could you please not die in it as well?” Eyes definitely narrowed in annoyance.

 

He got the feeling that he would enjoy teasing this man, but he didn’t actually want to find out where one such as him would end up so he relaxed and the darkness engulfed his vision and his mind. The next time he came to, he was still in the middle of the vegetable garden, entire body numb and wrapped in a thick blanket, the man from earlier crushing something not too far away from him.

 

“Do be a good demon and continue to sit there until the numbness goes away,” he sing sang and moved close to him, James finally noticing the angelic glow the man had about him. “I’m not the enemy,” he added quickly when he saw James frowning, pulling the blanket away and slowly starting to rub some cream on his chest. “Imagine that I would have killed you by now if I were one of the rebels.”

 

True, very true, but what if this angel wanted to get information out of him? He wasn’t dressed like the angels from James’ team, nor like the ones that roamed the world of the mortals, so he _could_ be a spy from the rebel camp especially since those angels and demons tended to dress in all sort of ways and didn’t seem to have an actual uniform like them. But then there was the issue of the way the _other_ angelic beings dressed like and in all honestly, James couldn’t quite remember right at that moment.

 

“Heal in silence first and be paranoid when you can actually form a word without covering me in blood,” the angel urged, wiping his hands on his half-buttoned white shirt before wrapping the blanket around him again – he smelled like lavender and for whatever reason, James decided that that was his favourite fragrance. “You got lucky enough to land in the part of the garden that needs constant heat, so you’re in the best place to get quickly healed with the help of my ointment.”

 

Even if James didn’t fully trust this angel, he was starting to lose his fight against his own eyelids. They were a lot heavier than he remembered them to be, but he could tell where the angel was by his smell and the pleasant song he was humming. And by the careful and featherlike touch he felt whenever he shivered in cold of pain, the angel by his side in a flash, gently shushing him and assuring him that everything was going to be okay.

 

Though both tone and words were soothing, the fact that they were directed at him got under his skin easier than any sword and made him feel weak and pathetic. “I am not a child,” he wheezed, forcing his eyes open so he could glare – or looking like a really confused, drunken man if the amused look he was getting back was any indication.

 

“Just how honest do you want me to be?” He asked, dabbing his forehead with a damp cloth and wearing a light blue robe that he definitely didn’t have a few minutes ago when he had closed his eyes.

 

“What are you wearing?”

 

The angel arched his eyebrow and leaned back a little. “Clothes,” he deadpanned. “I was sure that I had checked you over for any head injuries, but maybe I didn’t do such a good job.” He started to gently massage his scalp, corner of his lips twitching upwards. “Oh! Oh, I can feel some lumps!”

 

The pleasure he was feeling was instantly forgotten and he sat up fast, looking around for the Angel of Death. “I never asked you for anything, Azrael, but can I please have a more decent death than in a cabbage patch?”

 

Before he could fall, the angel grabbed on to him and carefully lowered him down. “I was referring to your horns; I apologize for scaring you,” he said slowly, tips of his ears red.

 

Normally he would have milked an angel’s guilt for everything they had, especially since this angel looked so damned adorable when he was trying to get his hair in front of his eyes so he wouldn’t see him while nibbling his lips, but he was having a hard time focusing on his own name so taunting him was out of the question.

 

“Demons are known to have them, you know.” But teasing him for a bit was more than okay, especially since the angel was now fidgeting with his sleeve. “I would have been worried about my health and your eyes if you didn’t find them.” Though he was worried for real that they were visible since he liked to keep them shrouded when he wasn’t in combat.

 

The angel awkwardly patted his head and then held a glass to his lips. “This will help you get back to sleep and also with the healing.” James sucked his lips in and frowned. “Are we seriously back to you thinking that I am trying to kill you after all my struggles to keep you from leaving with Azrael?” James nodded and the angel rolled his eyes, taking a big sip and then leaned closer to him to show him his empty mouth which convinced him that it was safe to drink.

 

The third time he woke up, his body was not numb and most importantly, it didn’t hurt. He took his time slowly sitting up, more distracted by the fact that he only seemed to have a small scar on his chest than actually being careful to not cause further harm to himself. He made sure to count _all_ of his fingers, shake his limbs, do a few jumps – horrible idea, by the way, as the world insisted on spinning out of focus and sending him back down on bed made out of crushed flowers and blankets – and unfurled his wings.

 

He flapped them slowly, hovering above the ground for a moment to see if he was fit enough to fly and when no pain struck him, and just as the unknown angel appeared in the doorway of the small house he hadn’t noticed until then, holding a candle and rubbing his eye, he flew away without giving the him a third look – the second one he gave him because he thought the being was naked, disappointed when he saw him wrapped up in a blanket.

 

Uncharacteristically to him, he actually went to the healers to make sure that he was really okay. And of course, M insisted on dropping by while he was poked and probed with all sorts of sharp objects, causing the angel healer to almost shave his nipple off since she was incapable of opening a door normally.

 

“Have you any idea how distraught your entire team was for these past four days, Bond?” she hissed at him, hands rested on her hips, tapping her foot so fast and hard against the floor that she actually managed to crack it.

 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were—”

 

She hit him with a scroll over the head. “If you tell me that you’ve been ‘healing’,” the air quotes were overly mean in James’ opinion, even if they came from a demon, “in some bodega without letting us know first, I will finish what those rebels started. And don’t think about lying to me because I know when you’re doing that.” That was the disappointing side effect of spending so much time in her despicable company.

 

“As tempting as that sounds, I actually spent three of those days in an angel’s garden and then the fourth one trying to make my way back here.” He swatted away at the angel who was moving in dangerously close to his lower area with her little knife. “The chest,” he growled at her. “I was hit in the chest so if I have anything of his medicine left on me, you would find it around the chest area. Although, if you ditched the knife, I wouldn’t mind your hands—”

 

M smacked him over the head with the scroll again. “Report first, giving in to this temptation that will result in Michael chewing my ear off afterwards.”

 

In all honesty, James wanted to give in to a while different kind of temptation, one that had a bird’s nest for hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so maybe not once per week, but I do end up adding and changing things while writing the last chapters.
> 
> I'd also like to apologize for not really working on the requests; my muse is not cooperating right now.

Q clicked his tongue and shook his head. It was disappointing to find out that demons were as messy and unfriendly as he had heard, especially since this one made him do a double take not only because he had fallen from the sky in a giant ball of fire and blood and screams, but also because he looked good – once he finished cleaning him and patching him up, of course.

 

“This is what I get for letting stray demons bleed all over my begonias instead of calling their generals to recover them,” he grumbled and started to gather all the blankets and cloths soaked in death and smelling like brimstone.

 

He washed until the sun rose and then set about fixing up his garden, trying his best not to worry about whether or not the demon made it home in one piece – or at least alive since his stitching was exquisite. But he did, right? The demon proved that he was stubborn and resistant, so he definitely had to. He was also part of the group that fought the rebels and they wouldn’t just let _anybody_ who could drop dead by simply flying, so everything was in order for sure.    

 

‘ _And yet, what if the stubborn demon croaked on his way back because he was weaker than he let on but refused to allow an **angel**_ _to take care of him_?’ His treacherous mind whispered just as he was on the verge of sleep and that was the moment he decided that he had enough of this doubt and that he should see for himself if the demon was still breathing.

 

It was rare for him to venture out of his own little Garden of Eden and he didn’t tend to be a worrier despite the fact that he was an angel of the non-combatant type, but the image of the bloody demon wouldn’t leave his brain. The way he had looked about him, tears rolling down his cheeks and mixing with blood and dirt, screaming in pain until his voice gave out. He had tried his best to get him to calm down and stop flailing so he could tend to him or at least stop the bleeding, but it took an entirely different and terrifying angel to do that.

 

There were only a few creatures who felt when Azrael was around and Q was one of them, the temperature dropping by quite a few degrees and the hair on the back of his neck standing up. “I am tending to him so do be kind enough to bugger off,” Q had hissed at his unseen brother and struggled harder still to save the garden destroyer.

 

The second the fog cleared from those strangely blue eyes, Q sighed in relief – even if the demon started to struggle to sit up and run away or attack him. Better to spend his time doing everything he could to convince a living headstrong demon that he was trustworthy than have his team and superiors trampling all over his garden to find out how he had died.

 

Back to the task at hand, he only realized how bad it was to set out on an instinct or need and without a proper plan half a day later when he was lost in a random demon settlement. Worse still was the fact that he could have easily found out where the demon was if only he had thought about contacting the angel side first because everyone knew where they were and what they were doing and it would make sense that they, in turn, would know where their demonic companions.

 

“We use our hands to knock on doors,” someone said from behind him, interrupting his head-walling with a short tap on his shoulder. “Just how different are your kind from us?”

 

“I’m lost,” he stuttered, fighting his blush, “Well, not lost. I am looking for someone and he’s lost. Well, I don’t think he’s lost; he knows where he is, but I don’t…” He trailed off and returned to smacking his head against the wall.

 

The stranger chuckled and put his hand between his forehead and the wall. “Are you one of those reclusive angels? Because most of your kind knows that we don’t actually like blood on our buildings, nor are we fans of bodies in the street.” Q groaned and the man chuckled again, turning him away from the wall. “Come on, I’ll help you either find your demon friend or your way back home before you bring down  this fine establishment with your head. I’m Alec, by the way.”

 

“Qamsaniel,” he said, taking Alec’s hand and slowly starting to shake it. “But call me Q. I am aware that my name is strange even for an angel.”

 

The demon grinned. “I wasn’t planning on ever ripping my tongue out to call you by your full name anyway.”

 

Alec wasn’t bothered that Q had no real idea of where he was going or what he was doing, looking quite pleased as he walked around with his arm thrown over his shoulders. He explained what certain buildings were and what he could get if he went in them in hopes that at least one of them would seem like the kind in which his demon friend would be found.

 

“I wouldn’t exactly call him that,” Q finally admitted after quite a few hours, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t even know his name.”

 

“And yet, you go through so much trouble to find him?” Alec asked, guiding Q to what he advertised as the best place to drink and eat – and drink some more – in town. “I am starting to think that you’re searching for a lust demon.” He leaned close to the glaring angel and took a sniff, wiggling his eyebrows as he pushed the door open with his back. “Not a very good one,” he continued to tease, tutting.

 

“I do not know his name, why would I know his class?” He muttered, pushing Alec away and fruitlessly trying to fight back his blush.

 

“Well, when a lust demon is involved, named don’t really matter. They just—”

 

“Alec, _please_ ,” Q begged, covering the other’s mouth, face burning with embarrassment. “I am aware what lust demons do and no, not from personal experience,” he added quickly, looking around to see if anyone was listening in on their conversation.

 

But the clients didn’t even seem to notice that someone new had walked in as they were too caught up in their drunken conversations and in making sure they never saw how the bottom of their glasses looked like. Then again, at how badly lit the whole place was, Q wasn’t quite sure they could even see who was sitting across from them.

 

“You angels worry too much,” announced Alec, throwing his arm around Q’s shoulders and leading him further in the place, whistling to get the attention of a server. “Two of the house special for me and my angelic friend here and hold the brimstone on his as I don’t think his heavenly stomach could handle it.” He slapped his back so hard that he felt the tips of his currently immaterial wings go numb and he was thankful for the creaky chair that he fell into.

 

“You really don’t have to—”

 

“No, no. Treating me is the least you can do,” Alec interrupted him and Q couldn’t help but agree.

 

Alec, despite his loudness, complete ignorance of personal space, and teasing had to be the nicest and kindest demon he had ever met. Granted, he was the second demon he met outside of official business with the higher-ups of the lower quarter, something which was ridiculous giving his position in the fight against the rebels. But even if he rubbed elbows with the crème de la crème of demons, Alec was by far company he wanted to keep outside of meetings and possible deathbeds and he regretted the fact that he hadn’t been the one bleeding all over his beloved plants – and then he promptly felt horrible for such thoughts not because he was angel, but because no one should wish ill onto others.

 

“Aw, what happened to your angelic glow?” Alec asked, tapping his forehead. “If it’s about your demon fertilizer, you should know that my kind is tougher than you’d think. I am going to assume that he wasn’t from _that_ faction by the fact that your wings are still attached to your back and, most importantly, because you’re still breathing, so if he left your Eden, he did so because he was healed enough to do so.”

 

“Azrael was by his side,” Q said softly, but Alec didn’t hear him because the noise around them increased tenfold.

 

Alec leaned a bit closer to him and Q made to repeat himself, but the demon was distracted was a laugh that rang above everything and was quick to turn towards the door, his entire face lighting up instantly. The same thing happened to Q when he saw that the one causing all the ruckus was his wounded demon and the weight finally lifted off his shoulder, the knife dislodging from his heart as he sighed in relief.

 

“James!” Alec called and Q made a note to remember that name as he tugged on the demon’s arm and pointed to the door. “You want to go?” Q nodded and smiled, pushing a few coins in Alec’s hand only to find himself tugged back – he really needed to put some weight on because the other man looked like he had a harder time opening the door to this place than to hold him in place. “But we haven’t found your demon manure yet and I guarantee you that James can find him by the end of the day.”

 

“I actually just remembered where he is, so everything is alright now,” Q shouted, looking down at their hands until he was released. “Thank you for everything and if we are to meet again, please don’t fall on my begonias.” He flashed him a smile and then made sure to get lost in the crowd, one of the servers understanding that he wished to leave without being seen and showing him the way out through the backdoor.

 

He slept unturned for two days when he got back home and would have slept more if not for his handlers pretty much tearing down his door to see if anything bad had happened to him, an army of doctors pouring into the room and starting to poke and probe him before he knew what was happening.

 

The leader of this nosy band of ‘worriers’ was, as expected, Mister Tanner, who Q considered to be the ‘Chief of Worriers’ more than the ‘Chief of Staff’. “There was a skirmish not far from here a few days ago,” the angel started to explain, taking away the pillow that Q was trying to use as a shield against the rest of the world, “and we worried that a rebel might have survived and found his way here.”

 

Q snorted. “And it took you this long to come here and check on the supreme builder? I will point out that I would have been long dead by now,” Mister Tanner spluttered and moved to apologize, but Q just hit him in the face with his pillow. “I am very much alive as you can see and you know that this place can’t be found when you’re looking for it unless you know where it is and you want to be here,” Q muttered and wrapped his wings around himself, the taboo of touching them freezing the doctors in their spot. “Now go away, Mister Tanner. I am still tired from my little trip.”

 

“Qamsaniel, let the doctors make sure you’re completely healthy,” Mister Tanner said slowly, as close to his ear as his wings would allow.

 

“No,” he said stubbornly, making himself a little more space in his cocoon and pushing the worry wart out of his personal space with the help of common sense. “I’m healthy but sleepy, so close the door from the other side.”

 

“ _Qamsaniel_ ,” the man now practically hissed. “What trip? And why didn’t you let anyone know? We were worried—”

 

“ _You_ always are,” Q interrupted him, cracking one eye open and sending Mister Tanner a glare through the little space formed by his wings. “I hopped over to the nearest demon settlement and then came back.” He covered the man’s mouth when he heard the shocked gasp he let out and sat up, pulling the covers better around himself as he neatly tucked his wings behind him – he wasn’t going to make them disappear just yet since he was sure the others would pounce on him to give him his physical the second he did that. “I am sitting in front of you in one piece, so I didn’t get kidnapped or cut in pieces, so save it and leave.”

 

The man didn’t leave, of course. Instead, he hanged around for a few hours, bugging him with all sorts of questions about what he had done in the tow/city and who he met and what they talked about – dancing around the ‘why were you there’ question – while his band of merry doctors sneaked tests here and there to make sure that he was truly in once piece.

 

They only left him in peace when he stretched out his wings – and when it was proved that he was as healthy as ever – but by then, Q had lost his need to sleep. Bloody, overprotective angel with a hyperactive mind, he grumbled to himself as he made his way to his beloved garden, watering can clutched tightly in his hand just in case Mister Tanner’s paranoia was waiting for him around the corner.

 

But his mind wasn’t with his weeding – the rather nasty cut he ended up with being a testament to that – and he blamed the fact that he had started with James’ literal flowerbed.

He didn’t know why he still thought of him, as it was clear from the fact that he had walked with two gorgeous demonesses by his side that he had fully recovered his stamina, the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt also permitting him to see that he was left with only a long, and light pink cut across his chest. His perfectly-toned chest that was littered with many other, older scars that only made him look even more—

 

Q dropped his gardening tools and slapped himself. Now was not the time to think of that. Never was the time to think of that, but now even less so as he suddenly felt the urge to improve the chest plates used by those who fought the rebels. Of course, he had to be careful not to make them too heavy and he also decided that the part going over the wings needed improvement.

 

He ran over in the back of his garden, in the little inconspicuous shed that actually housed his workshop, and started to dig through the myriad of different types of metal in search of two that would go well together. Then he dragged every piece of cut wood he had inside and fired up the forge – though since he was horrible at cutting wood and because he had forgotten to ask the agents to help him, he only worked for half a day.

 

The first armour he came up with bent the type of blade they knew the rebels used – he made a mental note to improve their and ask if anyone nicked a newer enemy sword – but he almost sprained his wings trying to maintain altitude and a hard time breathing. The second one was much too easy to penetrate though which was a shame because it was sufficiently light. The third and final one for that set of logs was somehow too heavy on the right side and too light and the left side, and cracks appeared all over even before Q was done putting it on.

 

“Clearly not a good idea to mix them all,” he sleepily muttered as he dragged himself outside, taking a deep breath of clean, fresh, and easily to breathe air right before throwing himself against his favourite tree in the garden, planning to stare at the stars through the branches only to end up staring into two curious blue eyes.

 

It took his mind a moment to process that eyes in the sky weren’t normal – despite what humans liked to draw all over their books and houses – but his mouth was covered before he could scream, which only served to panic him even more since he could taste blood. “My friend said you were supposed to treat him to something that might vaguely pass as food on a very good day,” the intruder grunted out and Q elbowed him in the head which caused the intruder to completely fall from the tree.

 

He made to kick him in the face, but stopped short when he realized that it was James. “Can’t you come here like a normal creature?” He asked as he turned the once again wounded demon on his back, instantly spotting the bleeding wound. “What happened this time? Are the scratches going down your back from the tree or did you already have them here? Where did you—”

 

James gently cupped the back of his neck with one hand and used the other to cover his mouth, frowning as he looked him up and down. “How can you talk that much and that fast without passing out from lack of oxygen?” He grinned at the glare he was getting it and moved his hand off of his mouth, but did not release his neck. “Why are you covered in soot and why is your hair singed? I like that clothes are optional.”

 

Q’s eyes widened and he glanced down at himself before slipping out of the demon’s hold in favour of hiding behind the tree. “What are you doing here? Demon blood really isn’t good for my flowers.”

 

“And I am sure that angelic soot does wonders,” James teased, ripping a leaf from the tree to daub at his chest wound.

 

Q clicked his tongue and ripped the leaf from his hand, grabbing his arm and dragging him towards his house. “If you must know, I was forging,” he explained even if he normally would have kept his mouth shut, sitting James down and throwing on an old robe before starting to wash his hands. “There’s a bag with medicine on the table next to you. Please start cleaning your wound.”

 

“I’m not here because I need a doctor—” He shut his mouth and started to do what he was told when he saw the way Q was looking at him. “What were you forging?”

 

“This and that,” Q said cryptically. “Who were you fighting so far away from your city?”

 

James grinned. “That guy and the other,” he answered, grabbing Q’s hand and tugging him in his lap, running his hand through the other man’s hair. “Now, about that meal you shared with my friend—”

 

Those words were the perfect excuse for Q to force himself to get up and run in the other room. “I have his money right here,” he called out, looking around for his pouch as slow as it was possible without outright sitting still, wanting to be away from the demon for a bit so his heart could have enough time to slow down - the man was covered in enough of his own blood and he really didn’t want to see what would happen if his own would get in the mix.

 

“I’m not actually here to get money from you,” James whispered from too close to him for Q’s comfort, easily turning him around and starting to clean his face with a damp cloth. “I haven’t seen angels this dirty outside of a battlefield.”

 

Q allowed himself to strangely enjoy the other’s touch before pulling a chair in between them. “What are you here for if not for medical help or money?” He asked carefully, mentally kicking himself for noticing just then that James had a sword with him, a voice that sounded very much like Mister Tanner’s whispering in the back of his mind that this was one of the many reasons why he was always so panicked when it came to him.

 

James shrugged and they stared at each other for a few minutes until the demon took Q’s hand with the cloth in it and pushed it to his wound. No other words were exchanged while Q cleaned and dressed the wounds and when everything was over and done with, the demon left without saying ‘goodbye’ or ‘thank you’. But it turned out that James like to thank in actions, not words, as Q woke up to two neat stacks of perfectly cut logs and a beautiful new, dark green robe to replace the ruined one and he went back to work with a little smile.

 

He didn’t get enough time to start missing the demon or obsess too much over why he had been there in the first place because James dropped by not one week later, eyes black, lip cut, nose broken, and his right arm in a very strange position. Q dropped what he was holding and caught the demon before he could fall in his rosebush.

 

“You’re here because you hate flowers, right?”

 

James chuckled, throwing his good arm around Q’s neck. “I figured that if I trample on enough of them, you’ll fix my arm without me asking you.”

 

Q rolled his eyes and led James inside, helping him lie down on the ground and giving him this thickest pencil. “Bite down on this,” he instructed even as he bit down on his own lower lip, trying to remember how to properly fix this.

 

When James flinched because he moved the injured arm from his body at a 90 degree angle, so did Q. The angel look apologetically as he slowly grabbed his arm, bracing himself when James placed his feet against his torso for leverage – so this was not the first time it had happened to the demon, Q concluded, but it still didn’t make him feel better because it was the first time he was relocating something – and after receiving a nod and a reassuring squeeze, Q slowly started to pull on his arm.

 

The whole thing lasted maybe two minutes, but James’ pained growls made everything feel like two millenniums. By the time Q heard the small clunk that signalled that everything was where it should be, he was shaking like a leaf and the bones in his legs were no longer solid.

 

“You did good, very good,” James was saying as he patted his head with his good arm. “This was the least painful relocation I have ever been through,” the demon continued to lie, grinning at him. “Can you help with the rest?”

 

“Of course, of course,” Q muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Just give me a few moments to relax and pull myself together.”

 

James smiled seductively as he scooted over and patted the empty space next to him on the floor. “I think I heard someone say that the best way to relax is to have—ARGH!”

 

Q grinned at him, patting the bridge of James’ now fixed nose. “Keep running that mouth of yours and I might decide that your jaw is out of place. Now pucker up so I can see how deep that cut in your lip is.” The demon tried to suck in his lips just to spite him, but that plan was ruined by pain. “If you’re going to treat me like your own personal doctor, you will respect me like one.”

 

“I am not here because of my wounds,” James argued, stopped once again from doing something a sullen child would do – in this case, crossing his arms over his chest – by pain.

 

“Then why are you here?” Q asked, hands on his hips. “Why were you here the last time?” A huff and a head turned away from him, eyes shut tightly. “Well, you can’t argue that you were here because of the weather the first time we met.” He decided to consider himself the winner of this question round because James still refused to meet his eyes or say anything.

 

Q assumed that he was going to remain silent throughout his fixing up as he had the last time, but as soon as he was done with his lip, James turned out to be a real chatterbox. Out of the million questions that came out of his mouth in the amount of time Q took to fill a bucket with fresh what, the only one he really understood was about what did he actually did? “I am fixing a demon who must love being a punching bag,” Q said cheerfully, looking for some clothes that would fit him. “Now wash because you are not getting in my bed like that.”

 

“Well, that answers my fifth and tenth questions,” James purred in his ear, lips brushing against it. “I guarantee you that I won’t disappoint even if I am this state,” he continued to tempt, wrapping his good arm around Q and pushing his nose against his neck. “And I won’t feed off of you, don’t worry. Delicious as you smell and look, my little rose angel, I am not that kind of lust demon.”

 

It took everything he got, but Q found enough strength in him to gently push James away and act like he hadn’t been affected – not hide it because if his face wanted to turn red, he couldn’t really stop it and if his skin insisted of having Goosebumps, there was no cure for that as far as he knew. “I am guessing that this class act is what got you looking like a panda?”

 

James shrugged, shifting his attention to unbuttoning his pants. “I will admit that it was one of the more important reasons.” He wobbled and almost fell so Q made him sit down on the bed while he took care of his pants. “The wife walking in on me doing to same thing you’re doing to her husband, only buck naked and obviously—”

 

Q shoved a piece of cloth in his mouth. “I am honestly surprised that no one cut your tongue off yet,” he muttered.

 

“I am much too skilled with my tongue to have it cut,” James purred.

 

The demon also started to move, probably trying to get in a seductive position, but Q was quick to grab his dirty legs before they could touch his freshly washed sheets. “I need to wash you before I’ll allow you to properly lie in my bed.””

 

James looked like he was tempted to run his fingers through his hair when he kneeled before him with the bucket of warm water, but the demon proved to actually own a bit of a brain by simply smiling suggestively at him – although Q was starting to suspect that was just the way his face usually looked like when he was mostly healthy – and keeping his hands to himself.

 

“Your hair looks really soft.” But not his comments. “I bet it’s as soft as it looks and I’d just love to kiss it, play with it, and bury my nose in it.” Comments which Q did his best to ignore while tucking the man in. “Don’t I get a goodnight kiss, my little rose angel?”

 

“You’re going to get a goodnight smack upside your head if you don’t stop it,” Q said warningly, slowly shaking his head as he tucked the overgrown demon in for the night, already going over possible plans for a headpiece that would keep the faces and heads protected of his soldiers from any and all harm.

 

Wishing not to waste any moment of his inspiration, Q sat down at his desk and started to draw out his plans. James also wasted no time in falling asleep, his snoring not as unpleasant as Q thought it would be. In fact, it probably even helped him fall asleep all over his not quite dried drawings.

 

His expectations of waking up with a stiff neck and a dirty face weren’t met and he couldn’t say that it disappointed him. The demon did not strike him as someone who would care about something beyond normal, so he was surprised to wake up in his own bed and wrapped so tightly and in so many fine blankets that it took him a good five minutes before he managed to wiggle out.

 

He carefully started to fold the obvious gifts, mesmerized by how lifelike the golden stag embroiled on all of them looked. It was clear that it was hand stitched and Q felt ashamed and disappointed that he wasn’t able to add such beautiful details on the things he created – although they would be completely useless and in some cases, even damaging to the carefully calculated and balanced distribution of different metals used in the armours or swords creation.

 

Q locked himself back in his workshop of the weeks that followed, making armour after armour and sword after sword, each sharper and lighter than the previous one, the last set he managed to create before the angel of worry that was Mister Tanner dragged him out by his ears having an attempt at a model.

 

“I was going to come out when I was done,” he hissed, shutting his eyes and groaning in pain when he saw daylight. “Somebody get that torch out of my eyes before they start bleeding.”

 

“We both know that you wouldn’t have ever been done,” Mister Tanner snapped at him, pushing him in a large, ghastly tub that was lined with gold and was in the shape of a seashell and that Q swore wasn’t there the last time had had been that far away from his workshop. “I had calculated that your logs would last you for half a day with how powerful you were making the fire, but _someone_ decided to be useful for once in their existence and kept you supplied with them.” He sent a glare somewhere into the trees, pushing Q’s head under the water before he could get a good look in that direction and then pulled him back up before he got the feeling that he was drowning.

 

“I kind of need the top part of my head to think and live, so please refrain from scalping me if you could,” Q gasped, clutching the edge of the tub and trying his best not to yelp in pain as Mister Tanner seemed to rub his head harder still. “I will hit you in the head with my wings, I swear,” he eventually growled out and Mister Tanner was at least ten feet away from him. “I will finish washing myself then I’ll eat and go to sleep and I shan’t be working for the next few days as it seems that my garden has been desecrated.”

 

Mister Tanner sent him a hard glare, huffing and crossing his arms over his chest. “Not like you have a choice as I had Peter put a lock on your workshop.” He somehow managed to glare even harder at him when he heard his snort. “I _know_ that his locks are helpless against your creations, but I also know that you have enough respect for the fact that he was the one who taught you how to properly hold a hammer.”

 

He left Q alone to sulk and sulk he did, sending a glare at the lock every now and then, hoping that it would suddenly rust into inexistence or at least have the decency to pop open and let him in. Not that he wanted to go back to work right away since his garden truly looked like a disaster had struck it and he was hungry and sleepy, but he was going to have a harder time resting now that he knew he was being forced to do so.

 

And who was Mister Tanner to treat him like that anyway? True, he was older than him but Q technically outranked him so this was treason! Yes, yes, Mister Tanner was a traitor and all he had to do to get his workshop rights back was go and report him and… And then feel horrible because this was for his good and he also cared about the old angel, so Mister Tanner won this round. But the war was still not over and Q was sure that one day, he would find a way to never get his workshop access revoked _and_ keep the man from worrying himself into an early meeting with Azrael.

 

“Is my rose angel trying to turn into a prune?” James asked amusedly, stepping into view from behind a tree, right wing visible and sitting in an awkward position.

 

“What—?”

 

James shushed him, hands already on his back. “I am not here for that,” he whispered, nimble fingers working their way down his back as he started a massage that promised to be sinfully good.

 

“You never are,” Q all but purred. “Are you the reason why I never ran out of logs?” James hummed and gently started to pinch his back, turning him putty in his hands. “Or why this hideous thing is here?”

 

“Hideous?” James asked offended, pinching Q’s lower back with a bit too much strength. “I will have you know that many demons and quite a few angels have copied this design.” He pinched Q’s back again when he stuck his tongue out and pulled a face. “Tisk, my little rose angel needs to have his tastes refined.”

 

Q clicked his tongue and splashed James with water. “My tastes are just fine. Yours, on the other hand…” He trailed off and chocked back a laugh, blinking rapidly when a black silk gown was placed on his shoulders right before he was easily pulled out of the water.

 

“Oh, I am quite confident that my tastes aren’t as atrocious as you think them to be.” He looked him up and down and Q swore that he flexed his muscles.

 

But all Q could focus on was how awkward his wing looked. It was a beautiful, large, black onyx wing and Q was sure that it was as velvety to the touch as it looked. And probably even more painful. Actually, looking at it for so long and picturing what the demon was going through started to give him phantom pains and with a twitch of his fingers, Q made a decision.

 

“James, come here,” he said softly, frowning when James flinched because he folded his wing even more in an attempt to hide it from him. “If you don’t want me to do this,” which he would totally understand and be more than relieved because he was afraid he’d hurt the demon even more than he already was, “I can call a special doctor to look at it and I guarantee that he won’t tell anyone anything if you don’t want them to.”

 

James unfurled his other wing, bringing it around Q but not quite touching him even though he could feel the other’s warmth with the tips of his feathers. “You’re my special doctor,” the demon breathed out, cupping Q’s face and starting to massage his forehead. “My little rose angel, there’s no need for frowning; I am not here for my wing to be healed, so you can leave it be if you don’t think you can help with it.”

 

Q should have nodded and then ordered him to sit on a chair until one of the many doctors Mister Tanner pushed down his throat arrived. He should tie the demon to said chair and then sit on him to keep him still until said doctor arrived because he knew without a doubt that, for whatever reason, James had appointed him as his caretaker and demons were known for being picky and stubborn about who tended to their wounds – so were angels and he thought he heard another angel lament the fact that his charge died because he had refused the immediate treatment offered by someone who had another name for their creator, but that was beside the point.

 

“I will stop when you tell me to stop, okay?” Q asked in a whisper, shaking like a leaf, heart ready to jump out of his chest. “I only ever tended to my wings and they were never in such a state, so I worry that I might make it worse.”

 

“Only to your wings, you say?” James purred in his ear, wrapping an arm around Q’s waist and turning towards the house, good wing still shielding the angel from the sun. “You are a smart, breathtakingly beautiful creature, so I can’t help but wonder how that came to pass.”

 

A very good question, Q realized, frowning when he was tugged on the ground and James rested his forehead on his shoulder, awkward wing moved closer to his face. “I am not very good at wing care?” He said weakly, thankful when his shaking hands were clasped in the demon’s calloused and steady ones.

 

James hummed, tickling Q with his warm breath. “I find that hard to believe, my little rose angel.” He started to draw little circles on Q’s chest, nuzzling his neck. “Not a single wound you took care of left a scar, the first one notwithstanding as it was supposed to leave behind a body.” He liked his lips, Q shocked into silence. “Yet, if you are so sure that your warm, soft, caring touch could misplace a single unworthy feather on my back, you could let me inspect yours to prove your point,” he gently prompted and Q was sure that his eyes were so wide that they were a hiccup away from popping out of their sockets.

 

“I should go get someone,” Q started to stammer after a moment, almost face-planting in James’ arms because his bloody robes were too long and his legs refused to cooperate with his brain or even coordinate with each other. “I’ll just… I’ll be right back as soon as you let me go,” he said weakly but James just hugged him tighter.

 

“I was teasing, Q,” the demon assured him, running his hands up and down Q’s back, their noses almost touching. “I am okay with you touching my wings and I promise that I don’t expect you to let me do the same.” His hurt wing was almost tapping Q’s forehead and he guided Q’s hands close to it but did not force him to touch them. “So, joking and teasing out of the way, will you tend to my wing?”

 

Q noticed that there was something shiny sticking in the wing, two small rivulets of blood trickling on the floor, and he nodded without a second thought. He looked apologetically at James, the demon hugging him tightly and whispering a reassurance that he would do just fine and that he won’t even feel a thing when his bony fingers touched him – only to eat his own words not one second later when he bit down on the angel’s shoulder because Q tried to rid his wing of the obstructive metal in one move.

 

“If you stop now, I’ll bite your arm off,” James growled and Q felt the tips of his nails turn into claws, the beautiful onyx feathers pulling back and turning into scales. “Just pull it out already!” He shouted in his ear, using this good wing to wrap around the both of them.

 

And Q did just that, biting his lower lip as hard as he could and giving his all to ignore how hard the demon was squeezing and a few chosen words later, he was holding a shard of demonic wing armour covered in blood in his hand and seeing double. He almost passed out, but held back because the cocky demon who he thought couldn’t feel pain was a whimpering mess in his arms and warm blood was spilling over them both.

 

The demon whimpered again and that jumpstarted his brain. He realized that he needed to stop the bleeding and also that he was missing a few key ingredients that he would have needed to do that as well as keeping the wound from getting infected – gauze, hot water, needle, thread, special tea that would knock the pain right out of James and also help him go to sleep – so he pulled a chair close to them with his foot and started to force the cussing James to cling to it.

 

“James, I need you—”

 

“You can have me in a second, I promise,” James gasped out, and Q held back from smacking upside the head just because he knew he wouldn’t feel it in comparison to what he was already going through – but he did add it to the vault.

 

Taking a deep breath, Q tried again. “If you want anyone to have you ever again, you will have to replace me with this chair for a bit so I can finish tending to your wing.” He gave him the hardest stare he could muster until James begrudgingly clung to the chair, the wood already starting to crack.

 

He moved as fast as he could, shoving another pencil in James’ mouth before starting to rub the exposed bone in the wing with a special ointment that Mister Tanner had stuffed in the back of his workshop a few months back as a ‘just in case’ kind of thing. The chair was reduced to toothpicks – ‘I don’t bloody care that I just gave you more work to do; make the bloody pain go away’, the mature demon ordered when he heard him sigh – by the time he was done with the ointment and then his second chair – and last, mind you – suffered the extent of James’ anger when Q started to bandage it.

 

“I told you to let me get someone,” Q snapped, shoving a root in James’ mouth. “Chew on that until it’s nice and gooey.” James made to spit it out after the first taste, but Q covered his mouth. “Spit and suffer for Creator knows how long or swallow and go numb and then to sleep for the most part of the healing process.”

 

James slept unturned for three whole days, Q right on the floor next to him. Actually, Q didn’t quite sleep. He glared at the piece of armour he had pulled out from the demon’s wing as he recognized it as his and worried that he might have been fixing up and caring for a rebel who was probably there to steal his plans and last breath. It was worse that he couldn’t check on his inventions because Peter’s lock still didn’t deem him rested enough to pop open and he was still reticent about jimmying it open for those three days.

 

And then on the fourth day, just as Q was apologizing to the piece of metal, James stumbled outside, looking confused, dazed and more than a little bit angry. “Where am I? What did you do to my wings? Who dared to touch it?” He roared, stumbling in a patch of bellflowers and stopping himself from falling face first into them by grabbing onto a branch of Q’s beloved purple Lilac.

 

“He’s a complete menace to my flowers as well as to himself, the oaf,” Q muttered, throwing his tools away before starting to jog towards him. “James Bond, if you unfurl your wings in the middle of those trees, I’ll cut them off myself to spare you the pain,” he warned and grabbed his arm, tugging him back inside.

 

Of course, the sight of him had the demon panic even more and he hugged Q so tightly that the angel was afraid that he would have the same fate as his poor chairs. “I can’t really feel my wing, but I am sure that I can get us out of here,” he was saying, scouting the house for a weapon. “I have I yet to see anyone around other than us, but I know that these bastards like to toy with their prisoners so we must be really careful when we run away.”

 

A bit scared for the other’s sanity and afraid that he might hurt himself in a misguided attempt to save them both even though it wasn’t needed – not to mention that he was feeling flattered – Q carefully cupped James’ face and, sitting on the tip of toes, rested their foreheads together. “We are safe because we are in my house,” he said slowly, massaging the base of James’ head. “No one is waiting around—Well, Mister Tanner might be skulking around in the shadows to see if I’d break the lock to my workshop,” he put all of his strength in keeping James right where he was, “but it’s for my own good and he won’t hurt us, so go back to bed while I get you something to eat, okay?”

 

It took a bit of convincing to get him to eat as he was sure that someone had poisoned their food and even more convincing when it came to medicine, but three hours later, Q was sitting next to a snoring James in the much too small bed, playing with his hair to keep his hands busy and out of the beautiful wing that was acting as extra protection against the non-existent attackers.

 

He woke up quite a lot of hours later with his nose being tickled by said beautiful wing, James’ grinning face not too far from his, fingers entwined in his hair. “You sound like a bear when you sleep and you hog wings,” was how the demon greeted him and Q just wanted to smack him. “I’m pretty close to calling you my perfect bed partner, but there is just one more thing—”

 

“Your face is perfectly fine, so I can slap it until my palm starts to hurt,” Q interrupted him, but the bite of his words were lessened by him trying to curl in on himself so he would stop accidentally touching the other’s wings.

 

He reasoned that he had been allowed to touch James’ wing because he was in a lot of pain, but now that everything was taken care of… Well, now it would be for the best if he kept his hands and body to himself, even if it seemed that the demon was hell bet – pun be pardoned – on slowly bringing the appendage closer to his body as if he was a boa constrictor and Q his victim.

 

“Why do you shy away from its touch?” James asked when Q was pushing up against his chest, eyes shut tightly. “Are they not soft enough?”

 

“They’re yours,” Q muttered and realized how insulting it was only when James pulled back and the wing was no longer visible. Now, if someone else was this insisting with his wings, he would have started making a list of why he didn’t want to touch them, but he had quite a big soft spot for the demon and truth be told, he was beyond tempted to entwine his own pearly wings with the onyx ones. “I don’t want to touch them without being allowed to do so outside of life threatening situations.”

 

Like the snake that had brought down the downfall of humans, James wrapped himself around him again, cupping his chin. “I am starting to believe that all angels are dramatic, not just Tanner.”

 

Q’s eyes widened. “How do you know…?” He frowned and shook his head. “No, better yet, _why_ do you know Mister Tanner? And that piece of armour that almost cut your wing—”

 

“Stop being so dramatic—”

 

He covered James’ mouth. “Don’t change the subject,” he growled. “And tell me if you are a rebel.” James shook his head. “Are you sure?” James nodded. “Because you are and you changed your ways, I can put in a good word for you.” There was the possibility of the man being there to get his trust and then kill him after finding out their secrets – it was the only way he could explain the fact that he still woke up after falling asleep next to a rebel agent that was still very much against what he believed in.

 

“I’m not,” James muttered, kissing Q’s palms and pushing something soft and light on it before pulling away. “Tell Tanner my name and enjoy the fit he’ll throw. Also, please keep in mind that I am not half as bad as he claims that I am and that, when angered, he likes to exaggerate.”

 

He disappeared with a wink just as Q heard Mister Tanner’s voice.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are love, as usual <3


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